Play Ball

Written with the prompt:  one at a time please

“One at a time please!”

Marilyn heard a shrill, almost frantic request from a woman at the far end of the concession stand.  A group of pre-teens were clustered around her, pawing at the cardboard box she held aloft.  “I’ll start when you’ve formed a nice line,” she pleaded.

After twelve years teaching an elementary classroom, Marilyn’s management instincts kicked in automatically and she swept into the fray.  She clapped her hands and assumed her most authoritative voice.  “Line up,” she demanded in a deep tone.  “Now.”

The children took notice, squeezing back into a queue.  They seemed impatient and annoyed, but they complied.  “Thank you,” Marilyn praised.  “Good job.”  She wanted to assure them they would be rewarded for their cooperation, but she had no idea what the woman was distributing.  She vaguely wondered if she should have kept walking, but she couldn’t abide a gaggle of children in such disarray.  She stood back and waited, ready to help if needed.

The woman in front was tall and sturdy, but definitely an elder.  Her stiff hair was white and her skin was puckered with anxious wrinkles around her mouth and eyes.  She set down the box and pulled out blue baseball caps that sported the team’s new logo.  She flipped them into each child’s hand like she was dealing cards, and the kids kept coming.  It seemed she was nearing the bottom of the box, but the line was snaking toward the visitors’ dug-out.

Not to worry:  a man in a gray uniform who blended into he dimming daylight arrived with a second box that the nimble-fingered elder tore open.  This box was filled with baseballs that she tossed into each waiting hand.  Each child seemed delighted with their prize, trotting off to meet waiting parents and heading toward the stand.

The gray man appeared again with a large grated crate.  “My favorite,” the woman exclaimed.  “Bats!”  She tenderly lifted a small live bat with wide black wings and gently set it into the palm of the first child.  The girl’s eyes grew wide and she gasped in surprise as she cradled the tiny animal.  “You’ll love him,” the woman assured her.  “He’ll eat twice his weight in mosquitos every single night.  Be kind to him.”  And the children were happy.

Marilyn finally sidled up to the woman.  “Are you sure you should be giving out bats?  I mean—bats!!  Actual bats??!!”

The woman shrugged.  “We’ve never had any complaints before.”

But soon this box too was empty, and the line was wrapped twice around the diamond.  “Oh, dear,” the woman used.  “Well, I wouldn’t want anyone to be disappointed.”  She pulled a silver hoop from her left ear lobe.  “Here you go, dear,” she told the boy at the front of the line, and the boy went away satisfied.  

“This isn’t appropriate,” Marilyn said, laying her hand on the woman’s forearm.  “You shouldn’t have to give away your own belongings!”

The woman patted Marilyn’s shoulder.  “You’ll understand once you get to be my age,” the woman told her.  “It’s all just ballast.”  She proceeded to hand out her other earring, a tube of coral lipstick she had in her pocket, her false eyelashes, her car keys, an embroidered handkerchief, her letter sweater, a gold tank top, her sand-colored khaki slacks, her Chuck Taylor black and white high tops, her Bombas anklets, and finally her tortoise shell bifocals.  Each child accepted her gifts—no matter how odd—with a gracious nod and a murmured “thank you,” until the generous woman stood nearly nude, barefoot in panties and bra.  

The line was gone now and the stadium lights had clocked on.  “Here,” the woman said as she turned to Marilyn.  She struggled to remove a large ring from her left hand.  It was a solitaire diamond in a rose gold setting, flanked with a ruby on each side.  “This is for you,” she told her.

Marilyn balked, stepping back.  “Oh, I couldn’t,” she said.

The woman grasped Marilyn’s hand in both of hers, thrusting the precious ring into her palm.  “Trust me,” she said, “you’re going to need this.”

Marilyn gaped.  The woman continued.  “Changes are coming.  Much will fall to you.  Keep this ring close.”

Marilyn closed her fingers around it, and the woman floated upward into the dusk.  She stared after her, finally looking down to gaze at the magnificent ring.  “Play ball!” the umpire cried.

Photo by Esther Tuttle on Unsplash